Chapter Three: How Could This Strike Miss Its Mark?

Lin Hao shook his head. At this point, Guan Yu was already down to a third of his health.

Grandmaster cleared the minion wave first, waiting for it to crash into the tower.

He was confident that this time, Guan Yu would almost certainly defend the turret.

After all, Guan Yu’s health wasn’t low enough to die in a single hit. If it were Orange coming over, diving the tower would be no problem. But Grandmaster... with his short reach and low burst damage, tower diving was extremely risky!

Normally, Guan Yu wouldn’t give up this tower!

Moreover, thanks to the system’s prompts, Lin Hao already understood the fluctuations in Guan Yu’s emotions.

Anger can make people lose their rationality.

This is especially common on the solo lane.

Some players get heated on the solo lane, dueling their opponent repeatedly. It might start with barely losing a fight by a sliver of health, but the resulting economic gap gradually tips the scales of power.

At such moments, some people always think, “Next time, if I pay a bit more attention to the details, I can win!”

Ultimately, it’s just the anger flaring up, wanting to make a comeback.

Yet, most of the time, it only leads to dying more and more.

Based on Lin Hao’s assessment, this was almost certainly where Guan Yu was now.

All he needed to do was give the slightest opportunity—like diving the tower...

The minion wave finally drifted beneath Guan Yu’s turret. This was a critical moment.

Xinran watched as Grandmaster swaggered directly into the turret’s range, her breath quickening instantly.

However, Lin Hao didn’t even look at her, focusing solely on demolishing the turret as if no one else was present.

Grandmaster’s ruler fell upon Xinran’s tower—once, twice.

As the old saying goes, in such a situation, even the most tolerant can’t endure!

Damn it, do you really think I’m a pushover?

Xinran couldn’t stand it any longer!

A half-health Grandmaster, breaking my tower under my turret—does he think I’m air?

With a furious roar, Xinran’s Guan Yu spun in place, preparing to charge.

Just then, Lin Hai abruptly turned around, pulling off a deft first skill, instantly crippling Guan Yu’s horse.

Xinran froze for a moment.

Anger had clouded her judgment, and coupled with her lack of solo lane experience, she misjudged the distance entirely. Grandmaster lunged forward and used his skill to break her stride.

However, since Grandmaster dealt damage to Guan Yu beneath the turret, the tower immediately shifted its high damage onto him.

“A rage value of +600 from Xinran!”

Lin Hao chuckled.

He quickly retreated, but by now Guan Yu had already activated her sprint, brandishing her massive blade and charging at him.

“This Guan Yu’s losing her cool! Hahaha!”

“Haizi’s style is so infuriating—but I love it!”

“The entertainment value just exploded! Haizi, if you’d played like this from the start, you’d already be the top streamer in the country!”

The scrolling comments grew livelier and more enthusiastic.

“After so many years navigating the battlefield of love, I’ve learned one thing,” Lin Hao said casually, chatting as he played.

Same tactic as before—Grandmaster retreated steadily.

But this time, Guan Yu had learned her lesson and didn’t swing immediately. Instead, she closed the gap, waiting for Grandmaster to misposition or use his second skill.

“No one will charge at you without hesitation—except a sprinting Guan Yu or Ma Chao.”

Watching Guan Yu’s moves, Lin Hao sighed inwardly.

There’s an idiom that perfectly describes Guan Yu’s current behavior:

Showing off in front of the master.

Pretending to feint two body-lengths away? Isn’t that a joke?

Lin Hao curled his lips slightly. His left thumb slid sharply, and Grandmaster suddenly turned to face Guan Yu and struck her once.

“A rage value of +500 from Xinran!”

You dare turn back?

Xinran felt a surge of anger shoot straight to her head. Grandmaster was already down to less than a third of his health from the tower shots—just one more hit and he’d be dead—yet he dared to turn and attack her?

Utterly reckless!

Xinran aimed and brought her blade down on Grandmaster.

But at that moment, Lin Hai’s script-level footwork appeared again!

A sidestep, and the supposedly guaranteed hit from Guan Yu missed completely.

Lin Hao instantly activated his second skill. Grandmaster entered his rage state, and Lin Hao turned around to chase Guan Yu with basic attacks!

A flash of shock appeared in Xinran’s eyes. When she swung her blade, she was full of confidence—yet it missed entirely... she couldn’t even tell how.

Xinran tried to get Guan Yu moving again, but with Grandmaster in rage state, his skill cooldowns refreshed quickly. Soon, another perfect pull shattered Guan Yu’s horse’s legs once more!

A few more hits sealed the deal. What little health Guan Yu had left was wiped out—she died without ever getting to run again.

Solo kill!

“Damn! That footwork!”

“Incredible, I’d never have imagined Grandmaster could be played like this!”

But Lin Hao’s attention wasn’t on the screen. In his mind, the system’s voice echoed continuously as Xinran’s rage points poured in, making his mood all the brighter.

Seeing the energy bar representing Xinran’s rage nearly full, a question suddenly occurred to Lin Hao.

Was this streamer named Xinran really so quick to anger?

It was just a few rounds of overwhelming play and a bit of taunting—was that all it took to break her composure?

Lin Hao had no idea that, over in Xinran’s livestream, her fans had already erupted.

“Who the hell is this god?!”

“Damn, this Grandmaster must be a streamer! I’ve only ever seen footwork like this in my dreams!”

“No, I think it’s not that Grandmaster’s movement is good, it’s that Xinran’s aim is way off! Frankly, Xinran, you need more practice with Guan Yu before you can show off!”

“Xinran played it perfectly! That skill baiting just now—if even one percent of the viewers here could pull that off, I’d be shocked!”

When it comes to footwork, it’s easy for people to be misled.

Because while it’s about mechanics, it also seems not to be.

It’s an elusive skill.

The audience watched Xinran’s gameplay, seeing Guan Yu miss swing after swing, growing increasingly anxious.

All they could think was: If I were playing, there’s no way I’d miss that hit!

Xinran really sucks!

But in truth, if the viewers stepped up, they’d probably do even worse.

These purely visual effects created by deft left-thumb maneuvers may not be as dazzling as a Flying Thunder God or similar techniques.

If you get outplayed by a Flying Thunder God, you can only sigh in admiration—the opponent’s skill is just too much.

But when Grandmaster dodges a slew of non-targeted skills just by juking left and right, and then recalls to base right in your face in mockery...

How could that not make your blood boil in an instant?